The Calling (29 page)

The glasses were still in my hand. I dropped them in the trashcan outside the entrance and walked up to the car.
 

“We’re just waiting for Nancy,” Grandma said.
 

I didn’t say anything at first. They were all waiting for a woman who’d been dead for at least two days, and I wasn’t quite sure how to tell them the truth. How could they possibly understand, especially when they just had breakfast with the deceased?
 

“Nancy’s not coming,” I said. I stared into my grandmother’s eyes, then into Emma’s, then the two women’s in the back. And as I spoke I forced myself to believe what I was saying, so that somehow these women would believe it too. “Only the four of you had breakfast this morning. In fact, you haven’t seen Nancy since Wednesday. And even then she wasn’t doing well.”
 

For an instant doubt crept into my mind. What if they didn’t believe? What if I wasn’t able to make them believe the way I wanted them to and they remembered everything that happened this morning up until this very moment?
 

But I stomped on that doubt and kicked it away and just kept staring back into their eyes, from one woman to the next, using the connection I had with all of them. And as one collective unit, they each closed their eyes at the same time and then reopened them, blinking like they just woke up.
 

Grandma stared at me. For a moment her face was filled with confusion, and then she smiled. “Well, Christopher, it was nice of you to stop by. I’ll see you back home.”
 

The three other ladies voiced their goodbyes and how it was nice meeting me. I told them it was nice to meet them too, then looked directly at Emma.
 

“Don’t go to your daughter’s for Thanksgiving,” I told her, but it wasn’t forced like before, only a suggestion. She made a face and started to say something but I quickly stepped back, waved at them one last time.
 

After the car drove away, I walked back to the Metro. When I opened the door and got inside Moses still had his eyes closed.
 

“I’m assuming it went well,” he said.
 

“What makes you say that?”
 

He opened his eyes and looked at me. His face was long and his eyes were red and I knew he’d been praying the entire time. “You’re still alive.”

Chapter 26

“I
think I know what’s going to happen.”
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“About the thirty-four lives. I think I know how it’s going to go down.”
 

We were at Harris Hill Park, at the same spot Sarah had brought me to only a few days before. Moses sat on one of the benches looking out at the valley. I leaned against the split-rail fence, my back to the view. We both knew it wouldn’t be wise to return to The Hill just yet. I’d already convinced my grandmother and her friends that they hadn’t eaten breakfast with Mrs. Roberts, and I couldn’t begin to imagine the shock they’d receive when they found out what had happened to their friend.
 

“And?” Moses said.
 

“Last night, after John Porter found his car trashed, he said something to one of his friends about graduation. Something about making everyone remember. And when he did, this ... this image passed through my mind. It was only there for a second and then it was gone and I didn’t have much time to think about it. But I saw people, hundreds of people, all moving around frantic. They were screaming. It reminded me ... well, it reminded me of the footage they showed of Columbine.”
 

Moses stared back at me, his face impassive. “Christopher, do you realize what you’re saying?”
 

“Think about it. How many students graduate at any given public school? Two hundred? Three? There’ll be over a thousand people attending. Thirty-four is nothing. And like you said, that may just be the initial number.”
 

Moses had gone from watching me to staring off into space. He had mentioned before how he and Joey had dealt with possible school shootings, and I hoped he’d have an idea now.
 

“Moses.”
 

He blinked, looked up at me.
 

“What do you think?”
 

“I think we should definitely consider the possibility.”
 

I asked him then what we should do.
 

“According to the paper, New York’s former governor Mike Boyd will be speaking at the graduation tomorrow. So there’s definitely going to be security. But who’s to say a couple of students couldn’t sneak in some guns anyway?”
 

“Should we call the police?”
 

“And tell them what? Right now all we have is speculation. If we take this to the police, what are they going to think? They’ll be more suspicious of us than anyone we try to turn in. They’ll want to know why we think what we do, and what are we going to tell them? That my dead son was called here by God and that you now have a feeling?” He shook his head. “No, this is why it’s always been difficult, because in the end we’ve got no one to help us. We’ve got to do this on our own.”
 

“Then what about John? Can’t we try talking to him?”
 

“That’s all we can do right now. Joey managed to stop a girl from poisoning a dozen of her classmates just by talking some sense into her. Maybe you can do the same.”

•
 
•
 
•

A
DARK
SHADOW
had settled itself over the trailer park. I sensed it the moment we returned to The Hill. By then the deputies’ cruisers and fire truck were gone. We parked at Moses’s where he went into his RV and I headed back to my trailer ... but then noticed Grandma sitting on her swing.
 

She was alone, her hands in her lap. She stared forward at the view we’d shared the first day I arrived. She wasn’t taking up the entire swing and there was room for me to sit, but after I walked up to her I remained standing.
 

I softly said her name.
 

At first she wouldn’t look at me. She just kept staring out into the small valley. Her eyes were red. There was some crust on her face, just below her eyes, like the day she’d told me I was going back home.
 

I said her name again.
 

Finally she looked up. One of her hands squeezed into a fist, grasping a tissue. When she spoke, she said only one word and it was barely a whisper.
 

“Nancy.”
 

I sat down beside her.
 

She took my hand, squeezed it tightly. “I just saw her on Wednesday. My God, Christopher, she was my best friend. And now ... now she’s gone. She’s dead. And I ... I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.”
 

At that moment I hated myself for what I’d done to her and her friends back at Alice’s. True, I did save them the confusion of what they’d find once they returned home, but it was clear they’d had a good time with the thing they thought was Mrs. Roberts, and I had taken that away. Erased their final moments together like a videotape and dubbed them all with new memories. Thinking this now, I felt sickened as I realized what it was: mental rape.
 

I wanted to say something to her then, to somehow take away all her sadness and grief, but before I could even open my mouth she whispered, “They said there were flies,” and burst into tears.
 

I watched her as she held the used tissue to her eyes. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. Then instinct took over and I placed my arm around her shoulders. It felt awkward and for an instant I wondered if she’d cried this way when she found out the news of my parents. But I quickly shoved the thought from my mind. Instead I held her close, I told her that it was okay, that everything was all right and that she needn’t worry.
 

We sat there for a long time, while above us the wind fashioned clouds into different shapes and sizes like it had done since the beginning of time.

•
 
•
 
•

S
ARAH
ANSWERED
THE
door after two knocks and, smiling, said, “Hey, Chris.”
 

I smiled at her but said nothing. I’d been hoping John would answer.
 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look exhausted.”
 

“Is John home?”
 

“He’s upstairs. Dad grounded him a second time after last night. Really knocked it hard into his head that he’s not supposed to leave the house and he’s been in his room ever since.”
 

For an instant I saw Henry Porter raving at his son, asking him just what he was thinking, and John talking back, calling him Pinkie to his face, and Henry stepping forward and smacking him in the mouth and John, a second later, spitting blood
.
 

Sarah frowned. “You were with him last night, weren’t you.”
 

I nodded.
 

“What happened? I mean, besides John getting into that fight with Jeremy, what happened at the party? I heard Denise tried to kill herself and—”
 

“I need to talk to John, Sarah.” I tried smiling but couldn’t seem to pull it off and just stared back at her. “Please. It’s important.”
 

She seemed to hesitate again, then stepped back and opened the door. She told me which room was his upstairs and that I shouldn’t take too long, as Henry Porter would be home in the next half hour or so and he wouldn’t be at all happy to know his son was having company while grounded.
 

I thanked her and headed up the steps, then down the hall and stopped in front of John’s bedroom door. It was closed, with two large black and white stickers placed in the middle, one above the other: the first was Tipper Gore’s failed attempt at keeping children’s ears safe from questionable music—PARENTAL ADVISORY EXPLICIT CONTENT—while the other simply said I HATE STUPID PEOPLE. I knocked and waited for him to answer, and when he didn’t I knocked again.
 

“I’m busy,” John called from the other side. Behind his deep voice, very faint, was the sound of an aerosol can being sprayed. “Go away.”
 

“John, it’s Chris. I need to talk to you.”
 

There was a moment when I realized that this wasn’t going to work, that I wasn’t going to get a chance to speak with him. I wondered just what Moses and I would have to do then.
 

The door opened. A battered version of John Porter stared out, his right hand behind his back. His left eye was swollen and there was a cut on his forehead—both, I somehow knew, from last night. But there was another cut on his upper lip, which was from this morning and which I wasn’t surprised at all to see. He grinned, once again showing off his chipped lower tooth.
 

“Shit, dude, what the hell are you doing here?” Despite the tiredness in his voice and the fact that he was probably grounded for the next couple of years, he seemed in a good mood.
 

“I just wanted to stop and see how you were doing.”
 

“Yeah, well, same old shit.” He stepped back and motioned me inside. “Here, have a seat.”
 

Once I stepped into the room I understood John’s unusual good mood. I smelled the mixture of marijuana and Brut deodorant, and when I looked at him, he brought the body spray can out from behind his back and tossed it on the bed. One of his two windows was open. On the sill, a curl of smoke drifted up from the roach.
 

“Want a hit?” he asked.
 

I shook my head and sat in the chair he’d pulled out for me from beneath his cluttered desk. There was one bookcase, with more videotapes and DVDs than books on the shelves. Posters showing bands like System of a Down and Linkin Park, and half-naked girls like Pamela Anderson and Carmen Electra, covered the walls.
 

John grabbed the joint and sat on the bed. “Sorry about ditching you last night. But you know how that shit goes.”
 

“Don’t worry about it. But what happened? You look ...”
 

“Like shit?” It seemed that word had become his new favorite. “Yeah, well, we managed to track them guys down at Jeremy’s house. The prick got in some lucky punches, but I got him right in the balls and then kneed him in the jaw. Sean got it the worst though. One of Jeremy’s friends—I think it was Ted Schur—nearly broke his arm. He had to go to the emergency room. Good thing the cops showed up when they did, or who the fuck knows what might have happened.”
 

I asked him how much trouble they got in.
 

“Eh,” he said, taking a hit, “not too much, just the usual.”
 

Though I had no idea what the usual consisted of, John Porter and his friends had been given citations for underage drinking and disorderly conduct. When one of Jeremy’s friends admitted to what they’d done to John’s car, they were cited for not only disorderly conduct but vandalism as well.
 

“And my dad’s pretty pissed, too.” His hand went unconsciously to his mouth. “But shit, that’s nothing new.”
 

I sat staring at him, uncertain how I wanted to proceed. I thought of Joey and wondered what he’d say or do right now.
 

John, though now clearly high, noticed me watching him. “So what is it?”
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“Come on, Chris, we’re boys now. Don’t give me any of that bullshit. What is it?”
 

Now or never, I thought, and though I still had no idea what I wanted to say, I managed to come up with, “It’s just I ... I mean, your graduation’s tomorrow, right?”